


The Wedding Toast

by PipMer



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bromance, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Series 3 Speculation, Wedding Toast
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-03
Updated: 2013-05-03
Packaged: 2017-12-10 06:54:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/783112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PipMer/pseuds/PipMer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I know that tradition states that this is the point where the best man would give a speech and a toast.  But since <i>my</i> best man would undoubtedly be prone to a self-indulgent, rambling monologue that would be rife with veiled insults directed at the entire wedding party, I thought I’d change things up a bit.”<br/> </p>
<p>John gives a toast at his own wedding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wedding Toast

**Author's Note:**

> This is a quick, unbeta'd ficlet that popped into my head while I was at work, so I quickly wrote it down and posted it. Apologies for any Americanisms that may have slipped through. Also apologies for the less than creative title.
> 
>    
> I don't think this is really spoilery for series 3; it's just speculation based on what happened in ACD canon and applying it to what I think is likely to happen in upcoming episodes.

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

John Hamish Watson stood up and rapped his fork on the side of his champagne glass until the murmurs of the hall gradually faded away and expectant faces turned towards him.  He cleared his throat.

 

“I know that tradition states that this is the point where the best man would give a speech and a toast.  But since _my_ best man would undoubtedly be prone to a self-indulgent, rambling monologue that would be rife with veiled insults directed at the entire wedding party, I thought I’d change things up a bit.”  Light-hearted laughter rippled through the room. 

 

 “As I look upon this room filled with so many people, I’m amazed and touched at how many have agreed to share this special day with us.  I never in my wildest dreams thought that I would have so many people in my life who consider themselves my friends.  Eighty per cent of those friends who are here today I would not even know existed if it hadn’t been for one person.  One person who was responsible for bringing all of these people into my life.

 

“When I was first introduced to Sherlock Holmes and agreed to flat share with him, I didn’t realise what was in store for me at the time.  Not only was I entering a life of mystery and adventure – and danger, let’s not forget that – little did I know I was entering into a friendship that would prove to be a lifelong one.”  John turned to Sherlock and graced him with a glare.  “And not just for one lifetime, apparently, since that friendship seems to have survived even death. 

 

“My association with this man led to various and sundry connections with all kinds of people from all walks of life, many of whom are here now and who I never would have met otherwise.  People who have since enriched my life enormously, for the most part.  Along with the good, of course, there has been the occasional heartache.  As much as I thrived on the excitement and the camaraderie, some experiences I would like to totally erase from my memory.  Some members of the criminal class provided me with sobering lessons on the depth to which human depravity can sink, lessons I would rather not have learned.

 

“But at the end of the day, the good has far outweighed the bad.  The relationships I have cultivated since that day so many years ago have proven to be deeper and more enduring than most that came before.”

 

 John raised his glass high and nodded at the shy, unassuming woman sitting at the table nearest the wedding party.  She blushed prettily, hands nervously twisting the shawl draped around her shoulders. 

 

“Molly Hooper-Lestrade.  To the truest, most loyal friend one could ever hope to have.  I’ll never stop thanking you for stepping in and making sure that Sherlock survived that fall.  Without you, none of us would be here today.”  Glass still raised, John’s eyes travelled to the elderly woman sitting next to Molly.

 

 “Mrs Hudson.  Who not only became our land-lady _and_ housekeeper, but who became a surrogate mother to us both as well.  You’re the one who made Baker Street the first place in twenty years that I considered home. “Mrs Hudson pressed a hand to her lips and blew him a kiss, eyes glistening with moisture. 

 

John turned to his left and eyed the groomsman seated at the very end of the table.  “Gregory Lestrade.  A man with the patience of a saint, who gave a crippled old stranger a chance on the word and whim of a madman.   That first case paved the way for me to enter a new career path.  A career that eventually replaced the one I actually went to school for, and has proven to be even more fulfilling.  A career that I pursue to this day, and will continue to do, as long as the Met and a certain consulting detective will have me.”

 

John shut his eyes and bowed his head for a moment, quashing the upsurge in emotion that suddenly flooded his senses.  He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled before he resumed speaking.  When he lifted his head, his eyes were bright. 

 

“Neither Mary nor I have close family left.  I lost the last member of mine when my sister died a year ago.  So our friends have become our family.  Sherlock, of course, is like a brother to me.  By extension, his own brother has also become one to me.  Mycroft.”  John’s eyes locked with those of the man in the pinstriped suit standing isolated and still at the back of the hall, ubiquitous umbrella supporting his generous frame.    

 

“You and I have often butted heads in the past, and there has been plenty of bad blood between us.  But in the end it all boils down to this:  we have one thing in common that keeps us bound tightly together.  As long as that one thing exists, we will be a part of each other’s lives.  So cheers, Mycroft.  You taught me what true brotherly love is like and what it can accomplish.  And thank you for your generosity in providing a wedding experience for Mary and I that we never could have afforded on our own.

 

“Then there’s my beautiful, blushing bride; Miss Mary Morstan, now Mrs Mary Morstan-Watson.”  John turned to his right and gazed down lovingly at the petite blonde sitting by his side.  She smiled at him, happiness radiating from her entire being.

 

“I am certain that the woman with whom I am going to spend the rest of my life would have never crossed my path if it hadn’t been for the subject of this toast.  If I hadn’t attended a grief support group to help me cope with the apparent loss of a certain someone, I never would have had the opportunity to engage in conversation with a woman who was dealing with the death of her twin brother.  And the rest, as we say, is history.

 

“There are many, many more of you here that I could mention, but that would take hours, and I know we’re all eager to start eating, drinking and celebrating.  So I will move on to the point of this little speech, and to the person I’m meant to be honouring.  All of this,” John swept his arm in a circle to encompass the entire hall, “is the result of one fateful meeting on the 29th of January, 2010.  A renewing of an old acquaintance, if you will.  With a man who was gracious enough to relinquish his role as best man to my best friend after his unexpected return from the dead.  Because even though he doesn’t hold the official title, Mike Stamford will remain one of the best men I’ve ever known.  To Mike!!”

 

“TO MIKE!!”  the entire room exclaimed in unison.   John grinned at the pudgy groomsman seated next to Sherlock and drained his champagne in two gulps, as did everyone else.  He winked cheekily at his best man as he sat down and whispered, “No need to thank me for getting you out of that pesky social ritual.  I’m actually pretty impressed with myself for coming up with a way to prevent you from unduly embarrassing me.”

 

Sherlock just raised his eyebrow indulgently and smirked as he set his glass down.  “Oh, don’t worry, John.  You haven’t ruined my plans for you tonight.  In fact, you’ve played right into my hands.  Expect it when you least expect it.”  Sherlock calmly unfolded his napkin and laid it across his lap in preparation for the banquet about to be served. 

 

John sighed fondly as he put his arm around his new wife and leaned back contentedly.  “I should have known that I wouldn’t escape so easily.  Bring it on, Holmes.  I can take whatever you dish out.”

 

“Oh, I’m aware, Watson.  Where did you say you were going on your honeymoon?”

 

John snorted.  “Yeah, right. I entrusted Mike with that information.  He’ll never reveal it, even on pain of death. “

 

“Hmm,” Sherlock hummed in response as a bowl of lobster bisque was placed in front of him.  “We’ll see,” he said ominously, picking up his spoon and taking a delicate taste in his irritatingly posh manner.

 

John shook his head.  As much as he loved Mary and looked forward to their new life together, he was going to miss living with the annoying git.  Meeting Sherlock had unquestionably happened at the time he had needed it the most.  Even though there were things that had happened as a result that he never wanted to live through again, it had also led to things utterly wonderful and experiences that would forever remain unsurpassed.  All because Michael Stamford had chosen to call out to him that day instead of just letting him pass on by.  He owed that man more than just a toast during his own wedding.  He would have to think of something appropriate.  Until then, he would relish the fruits of that fortuitous event.  That was really the best way he could express his gratitude and appreciation.  Accept the gift graciously and without reservation. 

 

And so that’s what he did.

 

 


End file.
